


you can't believe everything you read

by ericaismeg, foxerica (ericaismeg)



Series: rare ships [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Awkward Flirting, Celebrity Crush, Cute, Fluff, Jewelry, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nice Jackson, jewelry store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/foxerica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello. Is there anything I can help you with today?” Stiles ask, straightening his shoulders and using his best customer service voice. Not that he thinks this guy in sweats and a hoodie is going to get him a good sale, but he’s been told that he has to be better at servicing customers or else his ass is out. Stiles can’t really afford that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can't believe everything you read

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here!](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/127092858317/ohhh-what-about-stackson-that-first-jewellery)

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**  

 

 

“Hello. Is there anything I can help you with today?” Stiles ask, straightening his shoulders and using his best customer service voice. Not that he thinks this guy in sweats and a hoodie is going to get him a good sale, but he’s been told that he has to be better at servicing customers or else his ass is out. Stiles can’t really afford that.

He glances at Lydia who is watching him with a single raised eyebrow. Now, if she was manager like she should be, he wouldn’t have to worry about sucking up to this douche. Seriously. The guy has the bone structure and the expression of a stereotypical  _jock_. Lydia’s watching him though and he knows he can’t let his judgement get in the way.

“Yeah. I pissed off my adoptive mother. I want to buy a necklace to make it up to her,” the guy says, glancing around. “What would you recommend?”

Stiles brings him over to their nicer, but fairly reasonably priced, case of necklaces. As he’s describing them, the guy shakes his head.

“No, I don’t like any of these. What else do you have?” the guy asks. Stiles doesn’t huff in frustration, but he wants to.

“Follow me,” Stiles says, moving to another display case. He’s about to launch into his usual spiel about the necklaces but then his curiousity gets the better of him. Plus he just saw what his ass looks like in those sweats and  _dammit._ He just wants to talk to him now. “What’d you do to piss her off? Maybe if I know how bad it was, I can help you choose a necklace better.”

The customer looks up at him, and Stiles can see a wave of guilt wash over his face. He has the prettiest eyes though and they almost distract Stiles from hearing him say, “I ruined her party. She’s trying to get in with these upscale bitches from hell that think they run this town and I don’t know why. She can do much better than them.”

“How did you ruin it?” Stiles asks, too nosy for his own good.

“I um…I  _may_  have set her table cloth on fire and ruined her dinner. Plus some dresses of the women sitting at the table.” The guy meets Stiles’ eyes. “And then I may have accidentally stepped on a lady’s dog’s foot.”

Stiles winces. “Man, that sounds like a mess.”

The guy lets out a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “No kidding. Although I guess I’m famous for asshole messes.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you wouldn’t be the only one,” Stiles says, smiling. He feels like he could really like this guy.

“Please. I’m sure a nice guy like you hasn’t ever done something like that before.”

Stiles laughs now and says, “Dude, my dad’s the Sheriff. Do you know just how  _much_  trouble I got into when I was growing up? I think you’d be surprised at how much dumb shit I’ve done in my life. And who said I’m a nice guy?”

“I think I’d like to hear your stories sometime,” the guy says, smiling now. “Nice guy or not.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Are you going to accept?”

“That’s not how that works! You can’t get your answer before asking.” Stiles laughs again and leans back on his heels. Okay, so maybe he’d read the whole douche thing wrong. He was surprisingly comfortable with this guy already. And the guy is super, uber fucking hot. Even if he’s wearing sweat pants. Maybe  _especially_  because he’s wearing those sweats.

“I usually do,” the guy says to him, challenging him.

Stiles snorts. “That’s stupid.”

The man sighs and then asks, “Alright, fine. Will you go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, grinning. “After seeing your ass in those sweats, I was a guaranteed yes.”

The guy laughs now and shakes his head. As if he finds Stiles too amusing for his own good. “Okay, weirdo. I still have to go apologize to my mom. So, what’s the most expensive necklace you’ve got?”

Stiles snorts. “Dude, it’s like $4.8  _million_  dollars. The only reason we even have it is because Lydia’s mother is super rich and donated it to the store so we’d make the news. We make the news, then the store gets free marketing, and people come in just to see the necklace and maybe end up buying something else. It’s a win all around.”

“Can I see it?” he asks.

“Sure. Follow me,” Stiles says, walking to the back of the store. The guy follows him and then Stiles pulls out the necklace. “It’s called  _Christie’s Diamond Pendant._  See how the pear-shaped diamond balances under a single round diamond? It’s one of the largest of its kind.”

“It’s gorgeous,” the guy murmurs.

“Yeah, I know. It’s like 47 carats and Lydia says it’s the perfect necklace because it’s simple enough to match any outfit a woman has.” Stiles starts to put it back into it’s case when the guy shakes his head.

“No, don’t put it away. I’ll take it.”

“What the fuck?” Stiles whispers. “It’s almost  _five million dollars.”_

“Yes, I know. You said that already.” Then the guy tilts his head. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Stiles shakes his head and mutters, “Clearly not.”

“Jackson Whittemore,” the man says, holding out a hand. Stiles takes it and feels his jaw go slack.

Stiles shakes his head. “No way are  _you_  Jackson Whittemore.”

“The one and only,” Jackson says. “Let me guess, you’ve seen all the tabloids that talk about how much of an asshole I am and now you don’t want to go on a date with me. It’s fine. Just let me buy the necklace, okay?”

“Okay.”

Stiles doesn’t move for a second. He  _has_  read all the tabloids that write about what Jackson’s done now. He slips into autopilot as he carefully packages up the  _five million dollar_  necklace. Jackson pulls out his credit card and doesn’t look at Stiles.

“You don’t seem like a douche bag,” Stiles blurts. Even though he’d totally pegged this guy as a douche when he’d walked in.

"Shouldn’t believe everything you read,” Jackson mutters. He taps his fingers as the credit card reader takes a while to process. “It’s okay, Stiles. Date cancelled. I got the message loud and clear.”

“I just–you really–and–”

"You can chalk it up to me being my asshole self.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. Lydia steps up beside him to discuss insurance for the necklace. There’s some paperwork that Jackson fills out in silence and suddenly, he’s about to leave.

“Huh.”

“Stiles?” Lydia asks, when the door shuts behind Jackson. “You’re an idiot. That’s the first time I’ve seen you actually  _interested_  in someone in two years. And now you’re letting him leave because  _he’s rich?_  Maybe he’s not the asshole. Maybe that’s you.”

Stiles glances at her and then he starts running. By the time he makes it out onto the street, he can’t see Jackson anywhere. His shoulders drop and he turns back into the store. Lydia gives him a sympathetic look, but he knows she doesn’t actually feel any sympathy for him.

Then Lydia holds something up. “It’s a good thing he forgot his credit card, huh?”

 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**

 

When the door jingles and Stiles looks up, a lump forms instantly in his throat. Jackson has finally come back. He looks…nervous. Stiles gets that feeling.  _Fuck,_  does he ever get that feeling.

“You’re back,” is the stupid thing Stiles says.

"Credit card,” Jackson mutters.

Stiles nods. He goes to get the card that they’d kept in the back should he come back. He doesn’t hand it over to Jackson just yet though. “You’re kind of a dick, you know? You didn’t give me  _any_  time to process that a guy like  _you_  would want to go on a date with  _me._  Then suddenly, you were cancelling the date, and leaving. It was the most confusing fifteen minutes of my life.”

Jackson lets out a small huff. It’s almost a laugh. He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, um, sorry about that. It’s hard…”

“Being you? Someone who is super famous and super, super rich?”

Jackson nods. “You might be surprised, Stiles. I just thought I felt something with you but then when I told you my name…”

“I acted differently,” Stiles mumbles. “I just needed to process.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a nobody. I’m struggling in school. This is a part-time job that I only got because Lydia pities me. I’m not some douche who looks amazing in stupid sweat pants. I look like I’ve gained twenty pounds.”

Jackson shakes his head. “Now  _that_  I find hard to believe. Listen, I know you don’t really know me, and I don’t really know you. But could we start over?”

“You want to?” Stiles asks. Jackson nods and he says, “Okay. Hi. I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Jackson,” he pauses. “Just Jackson. I think you’re really fucking attractive in your tie and I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“As long as it’s the greasiest burger joint you can find,” Stiles says, grinning. He’d  _pay_  to see Jackson in a place like that.

“We could go to Al’s just off of the 400 and Major Mac?” Jackson asks.

Stiles’ jaw drops. “Dude, I  _love_  that place!”

This could last for fifteen minutes or fifteen years, but either way Stiles can’t wait to find out. 

**♈ ♌ ♈ ♌ ♈**  

 

**Author's Note:**

> LET'S CRY ABOUT STACKSON TOGETHER [HERE.](HTTP://WWW.FOXERICA.TUMBLR.COM)


End file.
